


With Undue Malice

by queen_scribbles



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Colonist/Ruthless Shepard, F/M, Gen, Trauma-Related Flashback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24926710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_scribbles/pseuds/queen_scribbles
Summary: Everyone seems ready to believe Shepard acted with malice in the Bahak system. Given her history, it's not hard to see why. Being under house arrest gives her plenty of time to reflect on whether or not they're right.
Relationships: Female Shepard & Original Character(s), Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard
Comments: 12
Kudos: 11





	1. Out For Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Mass Effect Big Bang 2020 fic, with art from  ahealthylionisanonillion

__

_It had been a long time since Shepard was back on Earth, almost as long since she’d last worn her dress blues. The circumstances were just as formal, if far less celebratory. She was almost surprised they didn’t insist on cuffing her for the shuttle ride to their destination._

_Anderson must have picked up on her thought process, because he broke the heavy silence to comment, “The Alliance is walking a tricky line with this one, Shepard.”_

_She glanced out the window at the passing scenery. “How so?”_

_“The Hedgemony is out for blood, especially with your record, but there are still plenty who view you as humanity’s greatest hero. Higher-ups don’t want riots any more than they want war.” He leaned back in the seat. “So there will be a hearing, guards, heavy restrictions while their deliberations are ongoing, but they’re hardly going to parade you around in chains.”_

_“Lucky me,” Shepard muttered as the shuttle landed outside the building and they made their way inside. She pretended not to notice as conversations hushed when they passed, people following her with silent eyes. Let them think what they wanted; she’d done what she had to and would stand by that. Stopping or slowing the Reapers was worth whatever it took.  
_

_The room Anderson ushered her into was not the courtroom set up she’d anticipated but rather a spacious office. A pair of Alliance brass--a man and a woman--stood with hands clasped behind their backs._

_Shepard snapped to attention and saluted. “Sir. Ma’am.”_

_The man gave a curt nod, then reached down and tapped a key on the computer, which chirped in response. “Lisa Shepard, formerly ranked Commander in the Alliance military, this marks the official opening of an investigation into your actions on the 28th of March, 2186 in the Bahak system, to determine if they were carried out with undue malice toward the batarian people, and what--if any--disciplinary measures may be required. For the duration of this investigation, you will be confined to quarters here in this building, and you will surrender your omnitool, any datapads, and other methods of outside contact. You will be assigned a military escort and chaperone, and will be alerted whenever your presence is required.”_

_Her jaw tightened at the absolute waste of time with the Reapers mere months away, but Hackett had warned her they’d want a scapegoat to avoid war, and she’d agreed unity would be key when the Reapers arrived, so she gritted her teeth and nodded. “Understood, sir.”_

_“Admiral Anderson will oversee the transfer to your new quarters and confiscation of your equipment,” the woman spoke up. “The long term escort will be selected and assigned by the end of the day.”_

_Another nod, even as the countdown clock lingered in the back of her mind. “Yes, ma’am.”_

_“Dismissed.” The man tapped the key again, and the lines that had jittered across the screen while recording went still.  
_

_Shepard saluted again, turned sharply on her heel, and followed Anderson from the room._

_Neither spoke on the walk to her assigned quarters. A pair of large, muscular Marines stood outside the door, saluted Anderson upon his approach. They took her onmitool and checked for other gadgets before one hit the door controls to let them in.  
_

_“Any chance you can get me a hard copy of my file?” Shepard asked, surveying the apartment. Simple, sparse, but she’d made do with worse. Probably would again. “I wanna see if I can piece together their most likely arguments. Be prepared.”  
_

_“I’ll see what I can do,” Anderson nodded. “Might take a day or two, even if I can get my hands on it.”  
_

_“You know where to find me,” Shepard deadpanned, jerking her head toward the apartment interior. “Thanks.”  
_

_Anderson rested a hand on her shoulder and offered a supportive smile. “I should go.”_

_“Yeah, fraternizing with a war criminal might raise some red flags,” she said glibly, then sobered. “Take care of yourself, Anderson.”  
_

_“You, too.” He squeezed her shoulder and left.  
_

_Shepard slouched in one of the chairs, absently unbuttoning her uniform jacket. Even without her file at hand, it wasn’t a hard guess which parts of her past would raise the biggest reg flags. She ran a hand over her face._ And I know right where they’re gonna start...


	2. Mindoir-2170

The door grated partway open before catching on damaged mechanics.

Her grip tightened around her makeshift weapon, angling the jagged end of the railing segment toward the narrow gap. _You can’t have me, I’ll make you pay for trying. You **can’t.**_

Low, muttered curses accompanied the shoving of two armored silhouettes as they forced the gap wider.

She crouched, launched herself forward even as the lights on their rifles swung up to blind her--

And slammed chest-first into something unyielding that sent her stumbling back, the jagged railing clattering to the floor.

“Whoa, whoa, easy!”

Hands grabbed her arms and she thrashed to get free, a wordless cry of panicked rage tearing out of her throat, already raw from the last few hours. _No, NO._ Their armor reeked of blood and smoke and they _couldn’t have her._

“Hey, hey, calm down!” The one who’d arm-blocked her took one hand off his rifle to pop the seals on his helmet. “We’re Alliance, kid,” he continued as the helmet came off.

There wasn’t a lot of light in this shed--the lack of windows was why they’d chosen it--but there was enough to make out some features. Two eyes. Close cropped dark hair. Nose looked like it had been broken.

Human. Not batarian.

She stopped fighting and stared mutely at the floor, breath still rapid. Her hair hung in her face, matted with blood that wasn’t hers. She could see one of Javi’s hands just at the edge of the flashlights’ illumination. Bloody and still. Missing the pinkie. Laura’s boot-

She closed her eyes.

“What’s your name, kid?” It was the other soldier, with his helmet still on, as his grip on her arms went slack. 

She could feel herself shaking, bile climbing her throat. _Where were you?!_ she wanted to scream. _We needed protecting and you were too late, laughably too late, and they died trying to do **your** job-._

The one behind her moved and there was a quiet oath as he tripped. “What the-”

The shed rang with heavy silence for a minute as she tried to convince herself she was safe and they took in the reason that was so hard for her to do.

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” No Helmet muttered. “Hey.” A hand, probably his, lightly tugged her wrist. “Let’s get you out of here. It’s safe, I promise.”

He sounded so certain. So confident. She opened her eyes and shuffled hesitantly after him toward the narrow gap of light. She didn’t look back.

“What’s your name?” he asked as they stepped out into the late afternoon sun. “I’m Gabe.”

“Lisa,” she said hoarsely, blinking to adjust to the light.

He pulled her to the side, the surrounding sheds fenced them in and blocked her view of the colony. Her stomach flipped even as her shoulders slumped in gratitude.

“Lansing or Shepard?” the other soldier asked, eyes on his omnitool as he stopped conveniently blocking the view down one alley toward the nearest homes. She could still see other figures in Alliance armor moving around, the smoke rising from some of the buildings.

“Give her a minute, will ya, Spencer?” Gabe glared at him in the same moment Lisa’s knees wobbled and she bent over to empty her stomach in the singed grass.

“You know Commander Hurst will need the info.”

“I think she’ll understand if we don’t badger a teenager who’s currently in shock.”

She sat heavily, knees pulled into her chest, their debate fading to background static, replaced by images of Justin and Connor cowering in the corner, batarians dragging Finn and Talitha and Sarah toward a shuttle by their necks.

 _“Look out for your brothers,”_ Mom had said, and she’d _tried_. She and Javier and Laura had _**tried**_.

And she was the only one still standing.

“Palléon, Spencer, any lu- hey, you found someone.” The new voice, a brusque-sounding woman, jolted her somewhat out of her haze, though she kept staring at her knees.

“Yes, ma’am, she was hiding in one of the sheds,” Gabe explained.

“Anyone else? Just her?” the woman probed.

There was a silent moment in which Lisa hugged her knees closer.

“Looked like six dead batarians,” Gabe finally said. “And seven or eight humans.” A significant pause. “All looked like minors, ma’am.”

“Shit,” the woman hissed. “Thought Mindoir was supposed to be safe.”

 _So did we_ , she thought, attention more on the waving grass.

“You get a name out of her?”

“Lisa,” Spencer replied. “Didn’t give her surname.”

“Well, since there’s only two on record, and Lansing’s DOB would put her mid-forties, pretty sure this one’s Shepard, Corporal.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is that right?” Gabe asked, and she nodded stiffly when it sank in he was talking to her.

She didn’t speak or react again for a long time, not until he coaxed her to her feet so they could leave. She caught glimpses of the bodies; batarians piled and colonists laid out, snapped her gaze back to the shuttle door as someone draped a blanket around her shoulders. She held it close, her armor against the world, despite the warm day.

“Are they all dead?” she ask once seated and buckled.

“I’m sorry, yes,” Gabe said, brows drawn together in a sympathetic frown. “You’re the only-”

“Not the colonists,” she cut him off, voice hoarse, thumb rubbing forcefully at the bloodstains on the opposite palm. She swallowed hard. “The batarians.”

“Oh. Any that were here when we arrived are dead, yes,” he confirmed, leaning forward to brace his forearms against his thighs as they lifted off.

Lisa met his gaze with fiercely burning eyes behind snarls of tangled hair, not caring what he or anyone else though of the next word out of her mouth, or the vehemence with which she uttered it.

_**“Good.”** _


	3. New Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dandi's art for chapter is posted on tumblr

_As promised, it was only a few hours later--enough time to change and start settling in, not enough to get bored--when the door chimed and slid open._

_“Commander Shepard?”_

_“Technically not any more,” Shepard said glibly, crossing her arms as she surveyed the man who’d stepped into the apartment._

_He was burly, white t-shirt barely containing his broad shoulders but there was something in his eyes and his stance that kept her from writing him off as a meathead grunt. A mistake she’d bet a lot of people_ had _made._

_“Just Shepard’s fine,” she told him.  
_

_He dropped the salute he’d offered and nodded. “If you say so, ma’am. Lieutenant James Vega. I’ll be staying with you during the...”_

_“Trial?” Shepard finished, arching a brow.  
_

_“I think it’s officially a hearing, ma’am,” Vega replied, but one corner of his mouth edged ever so slightly upward.  
_

_“So you’re my babysitter?” she deadpanned, crossing to the kitchenette to look for a drink. “Here to make sure I behave myself?”  
_

_He chuckled and leaned back against the couch. “Something like that.”_

_There was nothing alcoholic-_ -more’s the pity _\--just a few wildly colored beverages that looked like they were meant as supplementals or meal replacement. Shepard chose a vivid pink one, then perched on the counter as she looked back toward Vega._

_“Nice ink,” she commented, tipping the drink toward the bold intricate design that peeked from his right sleeve, up the side of his neck and down almost to his elbow.  
_

_The awkwardly formal demeanor fell away and he grinned. “Thanks. You got any?”_

_Shepard nodded and shucked the right sleeve of her jacket so he could see the small, round design on the inside of her bicep. “Colonial seal of Mindoir,” she explained, not going into detail. If he was her babysitter, odds were good he knew the significance. “And...” she shrugged the jacket further off, revealing the top half of the tattoo on her back._

_Vega whistled. “_ Nice _, Shepard.”_

_The armored silhouette sat centered over her spine, blank lines detailing the armor, dog tags around his neck, Alliance symbol on the right shoulder of the armor. Detailed angel wings spread out across Shepard’s back, rising to her shoulder blades and stretching down past the top edge of her tank top, which cut off the view just below the soldier’s waist._

_“That’s...” Vega shook his head. “Heh. That’s for someone special, isn’t it?”  
_

_“Soldier who saved me on Mindoir,” Shepard nodded. She slid her arm into the sleeve and hitched the jacket back on properly. “He checked up on me after, helped me out, made sure I didn’t fall through the cracks of the system.”  
_

_“Good guy,” Vega said. “Sounds like he helped you a lot.”  
_

_She nodded again, taking a swig of the drink. “You could definitely say that.” It tasted exotic; dragonfruit, maybe? “My goddamn guardian angel.”_

_“Fitting tattoo, then,” he commented, skirting her perch to get a drink of his own.  
_

_Shepard chuckled softly, glad his back was turned so he’d miss the way her smile didn’t reach her eyes._ That’s putting it lightly...

-o- 

She stood in the doorway, surveying the sparsely furnished room. Bed. Desk. Closet. Dresser. Fingers picked at the cuff of her jacket as she tried to gather the nerve or the desire or whatever to step over the threshold. 

Deliberate footsteps--loud on purpose so she’d know he was coming--sounded behind her. “It’s all yours if you want it. Dennis and Zig are at some training thing, but I can introduce you when they get back.” Gabe was standing a foot or so away, hands behind his back in parade rest posture when she turned to look. “Entirely up to you. Zig keeps to herself a lot, and Dennis is deployed half the time, but they’re both good people.”

Lisa swallowed hard and nodded. “It’s a nice room.” The words still rasped around the edges. _Much better than the group home._ She worried her lower lip between her teeth.

“Lisa.” Gabe waited patiently until she’d met his eyes to explain, “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want. I just thought I’d offer an alternative-”

“No, I want to,” Lisa said quickly. She wrapped her ponytail around her hand and tugged in short sharp jerks. “Anything’s better than five roommates.”

He gave an understanding smile. “That’s what I figured.”

She let her hand fall, cocked her head as she looked at him, eyes narrowing. “Why do you care so much?” Her voice rasped to the breaking point halfway through her question. _Stupid night terrors._.. He’d visited a couple times at the group home, and been the one to help her settle there in the first place, and now this. It was confusing.

Something flickered in Gabe’s eyes, darkening them to almost black. “The... circumstances were very different, but let’s just say I’ve been roughly where you are, and I remember what would’ve help. My own room was near the top of the list.”

_Oh._ Lisa didn’t push. Mindoir was scarcely more than a month behind her and she wouldn’t react well to someone digging at her memories. Leaving his alone was the least she could do after everything. “It would help,” she nodded. Somewhere to feel safe.”A lot.” After a long pause, “Thank you.”

Gabe chuckled. “Thank me after you’ve dealt with Zig’s talking in her sleep a few nights. Dennis and I can hear her clear across the place sometimes.”

“Can’t be worse than my dad,” Lisa retorted with a half smile that vanished as she remembered she’d never have to deal with that again. 

“This being your room,” Gabe said quickly, stepping closer but still giving her space as he gestured to the door panel, “you can do whatever the hell you need to to feel safe. You wanna lock and barricade the door, go ahead. You wanna leave it open, that’s fine, too. Blanket fort, sleep on the floor, whatever. None of us will judge you. It’s your room. Whatever you need to do to feel comfortable and safe, do it,” he reiterated.

Lisa moved into the room, studied the door controls. Simple but secure lock. There were no locks at the group home, Not for the kids. No way to keep the world out when it was too much. And people were hardly lining up to foster traumatized sixteen-year-olds. Unconventional as it might look on the surface, this might be her best--only--shot out. To be somewhere she felt safe. Better to stay with someone who seemed like he cared about _her_.

She nodded, something other than apathy filling her for the first time in days. “I want to.” She looked at him uncertainly. “What’s it gonna take to make that happen?”

“I’ve handled most of arguing the case,” Gabe said. “You’ll probably have to confirm it’s what you want and sign some sh- stuff. But it’s mostly taken care.”

“Okay.” She didn’t smile, not quite, but the weight on her shoulders lifted ever so slightly.

“Welcome home, I guess.” Gabe reached over almost hesitantly and patted her shoulder. She didn’t flinch, which made him smile, just a little, as he left her to acclimate.

Lisa crossed the room to sit on the bed. Deliberately sat with her legs crisscrossed rather than hugged into her chest. She was safe. This was safe.

_“Welcome home.”_ The words anchored her in the sea of all she’d lost, and she started to relax for the first time in weeks.

-o-

It was not to last.She met Dennis and Zig--”Emery and Madeleine, if you prefer”--who were both as nice as promised, if not around much. Got what few personal belongings she had left settled in her room. Gabe helped her navigate the process of transferring schools. The nightmares and crying jags started to taper off within a few days of being somewhere that allowed privacy. And while the grief of losing her family and friends was still _there_ , for the first couple months it was never _unbearable_.

It was almost enough to feel _wrong_ , Lisa mused as she stepped from the shower and wrapped her hair in a towel. Like she wasn’t doing this right. Wasn’t grieving _properly._ She dried off and dressed in workout shorts and a tank top. Everyone kept telling her there was no ‘right way’ to mourn. She wanted to believe them.

She tugged the towel loose from her hair, and it fell in ropey, wet locks around her shoulders--

_Blood had gotten everywhere, but the batarian wasn’t moving anymore. She jammed the fencepost-spear into his throat a couple more times to make sure._

_Javier kept shaking Laura’s shoulders, repeating her name with rising desperation until she snapped at him to stop. The other girl’s ragged, gurgling breaths had ceased a good minute ago; him crying over her wouldn’t bring her back._

_More would come. The batarians knew they were out here now because she’d missed her first shot, given this group time to alert others. The pistol only had three bullets to begin with, and she’d wasted one. They were all gone now; the other rounds deep in the skull of the lead batarian. There were no more bullets, but there would be more batarians._

_And it was just her and Javi now._

_She couldn’t even see him in the near-darkness of the shed, even after shoving blood-matted hair out of her face. “Hey,” she hissed. “We have to be ready.”_

_There was a deep, shaking breath, but his words were steady when he murmured back, “I know.”_

_There were voices outside._

She backed into the wall, saw stars as she rubbed at palms reddened by hot water, seeing only bloodstains. Her gaze raked over the bathroom counter in a frantic filing of the paraphernalia Zig had left out in her hurry preparing for a date.

_No, no, none of this is right._

Lisa’s hair swung against her face as she lunged forward, focus consumed by the lank, blood-matted hair brushing her face. It was wrong, it shouldn’t be there, she needed to _get rid of it_.-

She yanked open the medicine cabinet, knocking things off the counter in the process. Something shattered, but she was too zeroed in on the shallow shelves to really notice. 

Her hands closed around the scissors and a large section of her hair in tandem, and she started cutting, staring deep into the fogged over mirror even though she couldn’t see anything.

Something pounded against the door. “Lise, you alright?” Gabe demanded.

Lisa kept cutting her hair, sniffling and too focused to reply.

“ _ **Lisa?!**_ ”

More wet brown locks fell in the sink. _Almost done._

“Lisa, I really hope you’re decent, ‘cause I’m coming in,” Gabe hollered through the door.

She dropped the scissors with a clatter and hunched over the sink as the door slid open. She still couldn’t see her reflection, beyond a fuzzy peach-toned outline, but there wasn’t anything hanging in her face. Probably good enough. She shivered at the rush of cooler air.

Gabe cursed under his breath. “Lisa, what-”

“I saw...” No, that was wrong. “I was... _there_ again,” Lisa mumbled, staring at the mirror without really seeing as the fog curled away. “The shed. There was blood and... and I needed to get rid of it.”

The fog cleared and she could see the spiky, uneven cut of her hair, a few longer sections in the back and near her ears. She could almost hear Laura and Javi laughing she looked like a punk.

Her knees buckled, and Gabe caught her before her chin cracked the counter, guiding her down to sit next to him on the floor.

“They’re _ **gone**_.” Her voice wobbled like an uncalibrated eezo drive. “My friends are dead and gone and _never_ _coming back_.” Gabe rested a hand on her shoulder and she leaned into it. “My family.... everyone. Because of that _filth_.” Fury roiled under the jagged sorrow. “ _ **I hate them!**_ ” she snarled, hand curling into a fist that flailed toward Gabe’s chest. He let her hit him, let her rail. “I hate batarians! They’re sadistic, monstrous bastards and I hate them! They should all die for how they... what they....”

Her throat closed up and the tears came in force. The medi-gel was off the wound, the dam had broken, and Lisa sat on the bathroom floor and buried her face in Gabe’s shoulder as three months’ numbness turned to sobs that wracked her body. It took several long minutes to regain control.

“Thanks,” Lisa said hoarsely as she finally sat back.

“You’re welcome,” Gabe said simply.

She sniffled, tried to find a smile. “You’re _really_ lucky I was decent.”

He laughed and withdrew his arm from around her shoulders. “Tell me about it. I was praying real damn hard. But there’s no one else here, and I thought you might be hurt-”

Lisa winced at the memory of shattered glass and looked around til she found the small bottle leaking light blue liquid. “Think I owe Zig new perfume...” she mumbled, wiping her eyes on the back of her wrist.

Gabe chuckled. “We’ll take care of it. Right after we take care of that.” A nod at her hair. “Do you _want_ a punk look, or were you going for something more standard, just short?”

“Standard, just short,” Lisa said with a shaky, grateful laugh as they got to their feet.

“We can do that.”

Two hours and a bit of trial and error later, they had.

She never grew her hair out again.


	4. Rules & Regulations

Shepard’s reverie--brooding--was interrupted by the distinctive aroma of shipboard coffee. Drinkable but not divine. She looked up from the divot she’d been studying in the table and found herself eye-level with a half-extended mug. Tilted her head back further to meet whiskey brown eyes.

“Trying to suck up to the boss, Alenko?” she teased, her voice still husky from all the damn smoke planet-side. “While coffee is absolutely a good way to do that, you’ll have to do better than this swill.”

Alenko chuckled and sat the mug next to her before taking a seat across the table with his own mug.”I’d never use this for bribery purposes, ma’am. Just figured a warm drink might help.”

Shepard raised a brow. “Help? I meant what I said to Chakwas, LT. I’m _fine_.” She reached for the mug with one hand and rubbed her temples with the other. “Pissed as all hell about a variety of things, but physically fine. You can stop feeling guilty for something that wasn’t your fault.”

He hesitated, took a cautious sip from his mug, and winced. “Except it sort of was, Shepard.”

She snorted and leaned forward, arms crossed as she braced her elbows against the table. “Unless you’re claiming to be precognizant--which I’m sure the brass would love--you can’t take blame for a wholly unpredictable outcome.” She caught his eye with challenge in her gaze. “If you’re responsible for the beacon, then I’m responsible for Jenkins.”

Alenko laughed wryly and frank more of his coffee. “Touche, Commander.”

They both knew he didn’t see that as her fault.

“So stop moping.” Shepard reached for her mug, tapped it against his before taking a drink. “I’m fine, swear it on my rifle. I’m gonna need you focused, whatever the Council does. Got a feeling things’ll be messy no matter what.”

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

-o-

She really hated it when she was right. Sure, she excelled at hard missions, and “representing the Alliance well” was always one of her primary goals, but wading knee-deep through bullshit got real old real fast.

It was her good luck she had an exceptionally good listening ear along for the ride. Oh, she enjoyed getting to know everyone, they were all fascinating individuals, but Alenko had made clear the first time they left the Citadel he was there if she needed to vent. Shepard wasn’t shy about taking him up on it. Sometimes it wasn’t even to vent, she just wanted to talk. It had been a long time since she had someone she trusted enough for that. But there was just something about him that made it easy.

He talked about BAaT, in a level tone and with a vagueness Shepard knew all too well. She told him about Mindoir, in the same broad strokes of trauma processed and moved past, but still shaping who you were.

Unlike most, Alenko didn’t linger on sympathy or look at her like he thought she was just hiding the brokenness. He nodded, commented he’d heard about it at the time--that kind of thing tended to make the news--and moved on with the conversation.

“You’ve heard it all, right?” he said with a wry chuckle upon the surprise she didn’t quite manage to stifle.

“About a dozen times over,” Shepard confirmed with a matching laugh. “Everyone’s morbidly curious about the gory details, but doesn’t wanna _ask_ about the gory details, and wants me to know how awful they think it was that something like that happened...” She sighed and leaned back against the wall. “Got really old. But BAaT has enough of a rep, you know what I’m mean.”

Alenko nodded, shifting things inside his locker. “Roughly, at least. What kind of ammo you think we’ll need on Therum?”

And that easily, they were past it. It wasn’t a sticking point or a weakness, it just was.

-o-

_”Why are you alive? Why are **you** \- Why aren’t you like her?!. **Broken**.”  
_

_“Why the hell are we out here if we can’t even keep one little girl safe?”_

“Shepard? You alright?”

She pushed the swirling voices--and the memories they brought with them--to a back corner of her mind with practiced ruthlessness and forced a tight smile. “Just fine, Alenko. Why?”

He gave her a knowing look. “Because you’ve been staring at that fountain for ten minutes without moving a muscle.”

“Your point?”

_“What’s your name, kid?”_

Alenko leaned against the railing next to her. “I don’t imagine that was an easy thing to do, Shepard; dealing with someone from your past.”

“And, what, you wanna play therapist?” she snapped, followed immediately by a wince and a sigh as she dragged a hand down her face. “...Sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s alright.”

“Biting your head off when you’re trying to be nice is not _alright_ , LT,” Shepard contradicted with a shake of her head.

_“Why aren’t you like her?”  
_

_”Let’s get you out of here. It’s safe, I promise.”_

“I just wasn’t expecting that particular wound to get ripped open so thoroughly. Or brutally.”

He didn’t say anything.

Shepard took a deep breath, let it out slowly as the tranquility of the fountain battled the chaos of her memories. “I knew her, y’know,” she admitted quietly, almost lost under the noise of the fountain and the Citadel around them. “She was my youngest brother’s best friend. Practically joined at the hip.” A wry snort. “Last I saw either of ‘em, batarians were dragging them to a shuttle and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do.” She paused, wondering if she should speak the next words aloud, especially somewhere so public. But it had been itching the back of her mind since Girard’s initial call. “I can’t help.... can’t help wondering... if she knows...”

“What happened to your brother? You could ask,” Alenko murmured.

Shepard shook her head. “I’m afraid it would hurt too much. For her. For me. With what she said... I don’t wanna think about Finn going through that, too.” _Damn batarians._

“I see your point,” he nodded. 

“Better to leave the ghosts as they are, anyway,” she muttering, pushing away from the rail. “Poking at them only ever hurts the living.”

He followed her without comment. Knowing he cared still helped. More than it should have.

-o-

Feros hit close to home. It wasn’t the same, she knew that, but colonists endangered by something seeking to control them was similar enough. She spared and saved everyone she could, regretted those she couldn’t. Even if they weren’t her fault.

And sat on the Normandy’s mess afterward with flashes of her own colony running through her mind. Some were good memories; Finn and Talitha winning a three-legged race, Javier climbing on a roof to “rescue” Justin’s model plane.

Most were not. And she almost got lost in them until she sensed someone sitting next to her.

She blinked and looked over to see Alenko studying her. “Need something, LT?”

He shook his head. “Actually thought _you_ might need a distraction, Shepard.”

Shepard smiled grimly as she went along. “And what did you come up with to serve as a distraction, Alenko? Gonna read me poetry?”

A dry laugh. “I can, if that would be better. My idea was a little more hands-on.”

She raised a brow and smirked, but he was already blushing, so she played nice and didn’t tease for the misstep. ****_Not that I’d say no if he was offering…_ The thought caught her off guard and she almost frowned. _Where’d that come from?_

“Tali showed me some tweaks to make omnitools more efficient, ma’am,” Alenko rushed on, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at the table. “Particularly at hacking AI.”

“Doesn’t surprise me in the slightest,” Shepard muttered, smiling at his beckpedal to formality. “I can definitely see that coming in handy.” She ran a finger along the dark grey band around her wrist. “How tricky are they to implement?”

“Not very, but I can help if you want, Commander,” he offered, then winced. “Not that I think you need-”

“I know what you meant, Alenko,” Shepard cut him off with a laugh. “And thank you.” She smirked. Alright, a _little_ teasing couldn’t hurt. “It’s been a while since I let someone fiddle with my equipment, though.”

Alenko’s fading blush came back in force at her suggestive tone. “ _Shepard_.”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” Shepard said, schooling away her smirk. “I really am interested in knowing those tweaks. We fight enough geth they’ll be extremely useful.” Not to mention she’d watched him get hit enough times on Casbin to nearly take out his shields because her damn hack was just a little too slow. “And I’d take the help, too.” She held her arm out toward him as she activated her omnitool, turning sideways to make it easier.

He mirrored her shift in position so both of them were straddling the bench. “Sure thing, Commander. I’ll try to keep the foot-in-mouth comments to a minimum from this point forward, but no promises.”

She laughed. “Hey, at least you’re a good sport about it.”

Alenko just shrugged, but he was smiling as he turned his attention to her omnitool interface. One eyebrow twitched toward his hairline.

“What?” Shepard asked, resting her elbow against the table.

“Nothing,” he said sheepishly. “This is just... an older model than I would expect for someone who uses their omnitool so much.”

She bit her lip. “Sentimental value,” she admitted, equally sheepish. “It was a gift.” From Gabe. For her first promotion. “Long as it works, can’t bring myself to give it up.”

A smile curved his lips, but he didn’t say anything. Just kept working.

“What?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s nothing.”

“C’mon, Alenko.” She lightly kicked his ankle. “Spill.”

“You just... you have this _reputation_ , Shepard,” Alenko said, still tinkering with her omnitool. “Good to know there’s a soft side in there, too. Ma’am.”

Shepard rolled her eyes but couldn’t help a small chuckle. “I’m full of surprises, LT.”

He looked up, caught her eye. “I’m sure.” His attention was back on his task too quickly for him to catch the wave of surprise that flickered across her face, but the simple warmth of the statement had her smiling for quite awhile.

-o-

“Y’know, I admire you, Alenko,” she commented as they sat together cleaning their gear, a ritual they’d fallen into without planning but neither seemed inclined to break.

He looked up with a quirked brow and faint smile playing at his lips. “Well, thank you, Commander. Is it narcissistic to ask for specifics?”

Shepard laughed. “Nah, I’d just call that curiosity. I admire your kindness. Your levelheadedness, how you haven’t let the crap in your past define you.”

“The same could be said of you, Shepard,” Alenko pointed out, his smile growing.

She snorted and looked up from the disassembled rifle in front of her. “The hell it could,” she said. “I’m pragmatic, not kind-”

“That’s bullshit, ma’am.”

“Don’t interrupt your senior officer, LT,” Shepard scolded, playfully wagging a finger at him. “It’s bad form. As is contradicting her self-assessment. While I may be levelheaded, the crap in my past has had way more influence on me than yours has on you.” She finished cleaning the gun and set about reassembling it.

Alenko pursed his lips as he swapped out the mods on his pistol. “Batarians.”

She nodded, sliding the pieces of her rifle back together with practiced motions. “I can’t separate and hold _individuals_ responsible for their actions instead of blaming the whole. Like you managed with Vyrnnus. I admire that ability.” _Because I lack it. Thanks to long experience reinforcing my opinion, but still._

He set aside the pistol and looked at her with a steady curiosity in those warm brown eyes. “Like I said, Shepard, Vyrnnus was an ass and a bully, but not all turians are like him. They’re jerks and-”

“Saints like us. I remember,” Shepard said. She scoffed a small laugh. “And for the most part I agree with you. Garrus and the rest are alright. But, Alenko, if you ever meet a _saintly_ batarian, tell me. I’ll pin a Decent Person medal on their chest my-damn-self. Every one I’ve ever encountered or heard about was a heartless bastard with a taste for slaving, piracy, or both.”

“Point,” Alenko said with a sigh. “They do have a... well-earned reputation.”

“So diplomatic,” she said, only half teasing. “Another thing to admire.”

He rolled his eyes. “Do I get to return the favor of being showered in praise, Commander?”

“By all means,” she grinned. “Shower away.”

“You’re driven and resourceful, good at finding unconventional solutions--and quickly, and no matter how much you deny it, I’ve seen the kindness mingled with your pragmatism. It might not be your top priority, but it is _there_.”

Shepard smiled wryly. “Don’t think many would use ‘kind’ as an epitaph for the Butcher of Torfan.”

Alenko shrugged, attention on fiddling with his omnitool. “Then they haven’t spent enough time with you.”

She was glad he wasn’t looking and so missed when she bit her lip as the words made her insides flutter. “You’re sweet, Alenko.”

He looked up. “Just call it like I see it, ma’am.”

“We can add honest to that list, then,” Shepard joked, but she spent the rest of the day with the corners of her mouth tugging ever so slightly up.

-o-

In the heat of the moment, it wasn’t a hard decision. There were regs. Protocol. No matter her friendship with Williams, Alenko outranked her. And he’d gone with Kirrahe’s team so there were more lives to be saved helping them first.

_First_. Even as she’d thought the word, led Garrus and Tali toward the AA Tower, she knew it would be _only_. That she couldn’t save them both. But according to Alliance regs it wasn’t really a _choice_. Higher ranked soldier, more frequently utilized skillset, more lives saved. Black and white. Simple.

It wasn’t until she stood on the Normandy, watching Virmire shrink behind them that the thought occurred ensuring the bomb’s detonation would likely have been viewed as critical enough to be worth whatever price it cost in lives.

There had been a choice.

The explosion blossomed, visible even from here.

She wouldn’t--couldn’t--have done differently, Shepard realized as her stomach lurched. There were arguments for either choice, either sacrifice, but one of them she hadn’t even considered because her heart rebelled at it being an _option._

And that was trouble.

“ _I’d never leave you behind, Kaidan_ ,” she told him, and it scared her how much she meant it. Her whole career she’d been the one to _get it done_ , whatever the cost, to make the hard decisions that needed making, and she’d finally found a cost she wasn’t willing to pay. Ever. She cared about him too much.

But there were regs. _No fraternization._ They existed for exactly this reason and didn’t really leave any wiggle room for acting on her feelings. So she shoved them down. Or tried to.

“How are you holding up?” she asked him, and his attempt at a comforting smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Dealing, ma’am,” he said, and Shepard wasn’t sure she believed him.

They danced around the elcor in the room for the rest of the conversation, both knowing this mission had changed something, or shown something, but too hesitant to be the one who brought it up. It stepped too far.

_“I’d never leave you behind, Kaidan. I couldn’t.”_

-o-

Even if they didn’t talk about it, her tacit admission couldn’t be unsaid. They were consummate professionals on Noveria, extra careful to follow protocol, but the few times Shepard glanced Kaidan’s direction, she always caught him looking back.

_Deal with it later,_ she scolded herself. _There are more important issues at hand that what to do about the guy you like. Even if you’re pretty sure he likes you back. Especially since you’re pretty sure he likes you back._

Reapers first, then sorting out the mutual attraction to a fellow soldier. She could do that. Though it would be easier if Kaidan wasn’t so damn empathetic.

Of course, it was also her own fault for seeking out his company and opinion after every mission. It had been years since she felt so comfortable talking to someone, and she was loathe to give that up. But it was different after Virmire, words chosen with more care on both parts even if neither said anything.

Leaving a way out. They were just talking. No regs against that.

“Hope the Council does the right thing,” Shepard said, shoulder not quite touching Kaidan’s as they sat at the mess table. She ran her fingers through her hair. “This threat is so huge, I dunno what we’re going to do if they won’t.”

“The right thing,” Kaidan said without hesitation.

“And what’s that?” she asked, sighing heavily. “What would be _the right thing to do_ if the people with authority to do something won’t listen? I appreciate your faith in me, Alenko, but I’m genuinely asking for advice.”

He knew what she meant, how strongly she valued the chain of command. How hard it would be if the right thing proved to be something counter to orders, even with her Council-granted freedoms. She appreciated the healthy pause that said he was genuinely thinking about it.

“Honestly, I can’t say for sure without knowing how they’ll respond, Shepard. But if you have credible evidence of a threat--which you do--I think, _Spectre,_ trying to eliminate that threat, to protect people, can’t be the wrong course of action, whether or not people believe you.”

Shepard nodded, half-smiling, and lightly pressed her shoulder to his for a moment. “Thanks, Alenko.”

“Anytime, Shepard.”

-o-

Her frustration at being right yet again defied description. Udina selling them out was only insult added to injury, and she could hear Williams’ voice in her head as she stormed back to the Normany.

_“And that’s why I hate politicians.”_

_You and me both, Ash_ , she thought wryly. Her irritation was so overwhelming, she didn’t seek out Kaidan, or pace the vehicle bay, or strip and clean her rifle, or any of the things she would normally do for stress. All she could do was sit on the floor by the lockers and lightly, repeatedly, bang her head against the wall.

This time, however, Kaidan came looking for her. “Looks like you get to say you called it, Shepard,” he commented.

“Yay me,” she muttered. “Just once I’d like to be proven wrong when I assume the worst about politicians. Just one single time. Apparently, that’s too much to ask.”

“Would they be politicians if they didn’t live down to your expectations?” he deadpanned. “Though much as they would have deserved the dressing-down you looked ready to give them, it’s probably good to take a step back.”

Shepard sighed and leaned her head back against the wall. “I know,” she groaned. It didn’t help that the Alliance were siding with the Council on this. God, she hated it when her respect for authority and desire to protect butted heads. “I’m just sick of it s’all.” She ran her fingers through her hair and rubbed the back of her neck. “Maybe it’s time we took a little initiative...”

Kaidan raised a brow, leaned one shoulder against the bulkhead. “Sounds like you have something up your sleeve, Commander.” He snorted and shook his head. “Which really shouldn’t surprise me; when _don’t_ you have something up your sleeve? It’s one of the things I l- admire most about you.”

Despite her frustration, Shepard smirked. “Careful, lieutenant,” she teased. “We get this over with, I might start paying more attention to what you say...”

“So it’s back to business, just like that?” he laughed, pushing away from the bulkhead. “You’re something else, you know?”

He offered her a hand up and she took it. Her momentum and enthusiasm proved overabundant, and she nearly slammed into his chest before she caught herself.

“Close one, Alenko,” she said playfully, doing nothing to widen the narrow gap between them.

“Too close,” Kaidan murmured in agreement and she couldn’t stop staring at his mouth as the tone made something _twist_ inside her.

Despite the spectacular flood of annoyance she felt when Joker’s voice over comms broke the heat of the moment, Shepard managed to convince herself the interruption was a good thing as she headed for Flux to meet Anderson. She was relieved. No matter how badly she wanted it, kissing K- Alenko would be a mistake.

_No fraternization,_ she scolded herself. _Bigger problem._

She was still repeating it in her head like a mantra when Kaidan showed up at her cabin door on the way to Ilos. Her resolve wavered as she stood, as they closed the distance between. It weakened in the face of his encouragement and support.

“You picked a hell of a woman to _admire,_ Lieutenant,” she chuckled softly.

“It’s more than that, Shepard,” Kaidan murmured, stepping close enough to leave no doubts to his intentions. “I think of losing you and I can’t _stand_ it.”

“I know the feeling.” Shepard rested a hand on his chest, what she wanted warring with the steadfast knowledge it was against protocol. “Kaidan...”

His hand rested on her shoulder, slid down to rest above her elbow. “I know. Where do you think _‘breach of protocol’_ would fall on the list of charges at our courts martial?”

She huffed a laugh. “Somewhere below ‘mutiny’ and ‘theft of military property’. But it would still be _on_ there,” she said, sobering. “And that’s important to remember.”

“I’m not disputing that,” Kaidan said quietly. “But, Shepard, _we’re_ important, too.” His thumb rubbed gently against her arm. “Unlike all the rest of this, _we_ will never happen again, and you... You make me fee _l human_.”

“Kaidan...” It was barely audible, her hand sliding to cup his jaw. _What’s **one more** broken reg?_ a voice whispered in her head, and it was tempting as all hell to give in. With everything else, would the brass even really care?

But everything else would be justified. When they stopped Saren, everything from defying the Council to stealing the Normandy would be the vindicated actions of a hero who “did whatever it took”. This, badly as she wanted it, would not.

Shepard let out a shaky breath as she met those expressive whiskey eyes, fingers tracing down his cheek. She wanted to take more, give more, But she couldn’t. Yet. “Hold that thought,” she said reluctantly. “This... this is not the time for _us_. But we can figure it out later, after this is done. Promise.”

Kaidan’s eyes fluttered briefly closed before he nodded. “You’re right,” he sighed. “Probably not a good idea to go into this distracted.” He caught her gaze with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. “I swear, though, if anything happens to you...” He gave a small shake of his head. “Later, though. You promise?”

Shepard nodded emphatically. “Promise.” They’d find some way to make it work. Just... not now, when it would distract from the task at hand.

“Alright...” He let his hand slide down her arm as he stepped back. “If you keep me waiting too long, it damn well better be the end of the galaxy.”

She chuckled, the warmth of his skin lingering on her fingers as her hand dropped to her side. “Noted.”

-o-

Later never came. It was delayed by duty, by Alchera, by the ruthless void of space. By two years clinically dead.

By Horizon.

And despite all of it, it still felt like that door was open. The barest crack, a slim hope, but Shepard couldn’t help wondering if they still had a chance.

-o-

_The hallway was emptier than he’d expected. Probably a good thing; fewer witnesses to his indecision._

They’re not gonna let you in, _his cynical side argued._ Doubt she’s allowed visitors. Even if they _did_ , what would you _say_?

_Right as the voice may have been, Kaidan still felt like he should_ try _. The worst they’d do is say no, right?_

_He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck._ Stop waffling and do it if you’re going to, Alenko _. A final breath and he strode forward._

_“Can I help you, sir?” the soldier outside the door asked, posture straight in recognition of a senior officer.  
_

_Kaidan waved off the formality. “I wanted a word with Shepard, if possible, ensign.”_

_She hesitated. “I... don’t believe the former Commander is allowed visitors, sir. Not unless related to her hearing.”_

Told you, _came the cynical chuckle. Kaidan ignored it. “You’re sure?”_

_The ensign shifted her weight from foot to foot, eyes flickering with worry she was about to be in trouble. “Sorry, Major. Even if she_ was _allowed visitors, she’s not here right now. The committee called her in to clarify some things. I can... I can pass along a message if you want, sir. Let her know you stopped by?”_

_“That’s...” He hesitated. It was tempting to let Shepard know he was thinking of er. That he cared, that he’d_ tried _. But everything between them was such a tangle after.... Well, it had always been a tangle, if he was honest. Complicated. And after the way they’d--_ he’d _\--left things, maybe she didn’t want anything to do with him. He wouldn’t really blame her.  
_

_“That’s alright, ensign,” he said, and walked away._


	5. A Foot in the Door

_One thing about using datapads, omnitools, and computers almost exclusively for documents, you lost the scope of size._

_Vega whistled--much like she had--at the size of the file sitting on the table in front of Shepard. Anderson had been as good as his word, not that she’d expected any different. “Some light reading, Commander?”_

_She snorted a chuckle, rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “Trying to be prepared.” She thumbed the stack of pages, then closed it to talk to him. She had plenty of time to read. And her eyes needed a break. “Never hurts, right?”_

_“That’s_ your _file?” Vega raised a brow. “Damn, you’ve done a lot of shit, Shepard.”_

_This time she actually laughed. “It does look more impressive printed out, doesn’t it?” She ran her fingers through her hair. “It’s everything from a little bit pre-service--Mindoir and all that shit--up through all the stuff I did while chasing Saren.” If they’d_ had _any notes on her activities while working with Cerberus, Anderson hadn’t been able to get those. “A long career of getting the job done whatever it takes.”_

_He grunted. “Not a bad rep, necessarily.”_

_“Oh, I’m not ashamed of it.” Shepard pushed the folder away. “I follow regs and all, much as I can. The Alliance has done a lot for me and seems only fair to return the favor.” She winked. “But even good soldiers need a break from time to time, and right now my eyes are gonna cross if I stare at words for another second.”_

_“Wanna kick my ass at chess again?” Vega offered with a grin as he pushed to his feet.  
_

_Shepard chuckled and followed suit. “Sure.”_

_-o-_

Gabe clapped a hand to her shoulder as they stepped back out into the thoroughfare. “So, Ensign Shepard, feel any different?”

Lisa snorted and rolled her eyes, batting his hand away with a laugh. “I do, actually, Staff Lieutenant Palléon.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Of course you do. You’ve been plotting this for a year and a half.”

“You’re making it sound like a bank heist rather than enlisting,” she complained good-naturedly, punching his arm.

“Everyone in your class is going to _feel_ robbed with how far you’ll out-do them.”

Another eyeroll, but Lisa couldn’t help grinning. “Why would I give the Alliance any less than my best?”

“You wouldn’t. We’re lucky to have you.” Gabe’s attention drifted to the side and he grinned. “Oh, here, c’mon.” He gave her arm a brief tug to start her after him as he headed toward an officer across the way. “Captain Anderson, sir, it’s good to see you.”

The officer, a tall man with broad shoulders and friendly eyes, gave a smile with the warmth to put Lisa immediately at ease and confidence to leave no doubt of his authority. “Staff Lieutenant. Enjoying a day off?”

“Yes, sir,” Gabe replied. He rested a hand on Lisa’s shoulder. “If I may, sir, I wanted you to meet Lisa. She just finished enlisting.”

Anderson looked her over with interest as he reached to shake her hand. “Shepard, right? Palléon’s mentioned you. Several times, in fact.”

“Yes, sir,” Lisa said as she grasped his hand, shook it firmly.

He smiled wider. “Don’t have to start with that yet, Shepard; I’m his boss, not necessarily yours.”

“All the same, sir,” she shrugged. “Better to get in the habit now. I”m shipping to boot camp day after tomorrow. All the practice I can get with proper address is welcome. Sir.”

Anderson chuckled. “You’re a smart one.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “And eager besides.”

He glanced briefly toward Gabe, smile still tugging his lips. “A good combination for surviving boot camp. Know where you’ll be doing it?”

“Fort Drescher in Nevada, sir.”

Anderson nodded. “Best of luck to you, Shepard. Palléon, enjoy the rest of of your day off.”

Gabe nodded, looking toward her with a grin. “Will do, sir.”

They parted ways and Lisa smirked at Gabe on the walk to the shuttle. “You talk about me at work, huh?”

He shrugged, unembarrassed. “I’m proud of you. I brag a little when we’re shootin’ the shit at the end of a long day, or during a watch assignment without much excitement.”

“Sweet of you,” she teased, with a light punch to his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Gabe replied as they slid into the shuttle, mussing her hair with one hand. They didn’t speak for the ride home, but she could see the pride in his eyes.

-o-

Her enlistment was not the only thing that made today worth marking.

Lisa wasn’t really surprised when she heard Gabe’s footsteps approaching the bench she’d claimed. “Figured you’d find me,” she commented without turning around, gaze still on the stars.

“Somewhere out that direction’s Mindoir,” he said, sitting next to her. “Not hard to guess where you’d be tonight.” He chuckled, rocked the beer in his hand before taking a swig. “Even if it _did_ take me ‘til just now to work out why you waited so long to enlist.”

“I had to wait ‘til I was old enough,” she said with a shrug.

“Yeah, but, Lise, you turned eighteen _months_ ago. And all joking aside, I know you’ve been planning to enlist practically since you got settled in. It kinda threw me for a loop when you didn’t do it within a week of your birthday. But you were waiting for the anniversary, weren’t you?”

There was no point in denying it, so Lisa nodded, fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. “Yeah. It’s two years today.” She blew out a long, slow sigh. “Justin would be a teenager.Me an’ Javi would be graduated, teasing Laura she needs to catch up ‘fore we run right off the planet. With no intention of making good, of course. Can’t have the three amigos if you leave one behind, right?” She ducked her head, hands clasped behind her neck and elbows braced against her knees as she stared at the ground. “God, Gabe, I miss them. And my family...”

“I know.” He took another drink of his beer. “Doubt you’ll ever stop. Hell, I’ve got friends ten years gone I still miss like it was yesterday.”

Lisa peered at him around her forearm. “Not helping, Gabriel.”

Gabe chuckled and flashed an apologetic smile. “Sorry. But you’re only gonna be adding to that roster of dead, Lisa. Just gotta deal with it best you can.” He held up his drink and sloshed the remainder. “I’d say it helps and offer to share, but I’d hate to get you kicked _out_ of the military before you really get _in_.”

“Yeah, I’d have to disown you and never speak to you again,” she deadpanned, straightening. “‘Sides, even if I was old enough, you know I hate how that shit tastes.”

“ _ **Language**_ , Lisa Anne,” Gabe scolded with a smirk.

“You aren’t the boss of me,” Lisa retorted, bumping her shoulder to his.

He snorted. “Never have been.”

“Yeah, just my friend. My guardian angel.” They were both silent for a long moment, staring at the stars. “Gabe?”

“Mm?” 

She looked over and caught his eye, all teasing gone. “Thanks.”

It was such a small word for everything it encompassed, but she wasn’t the type for flowery prose. Simple was best.

From the look in his eye, Gabe caught the full depth of her meaning. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m gonna miss you while I’m out there kicking ass and taking names,” Lisa admitted.

“And I’ll miss you,” he replied. “Just don’t let it distract you.”

She chuckled. “I think I can do that.”

Her gaze went back to the stars, to the direction of one home already left behind. She wasn’t sure if having someone to come back to would make it harder or easier this time, but she was going, either way.

“They’d be proud of you,” Gabe said, nodding to the stars as he finished off his beer. “Just like I am.” He pushed to his feet. “They’d also agree it’s time to turn in. Get a full night’s sleep while you can.”

It was an excellent point with boot camp and army life looming. Lisa stood with one last look at the stars and fell in step with Gabe for the walk home.

-o-

Lisa’s knee bounced impatiently as she waited for the call to connect. Her calls to Gabe were enough of a hassle to work out--and on a very strict clock with their different postings--she didn’t need the comms giving her extra shit today.

“Hey, Lise,” Gabe’s voice finally crackled from the computer, his image fuzzy as it filled the screen. “Might not have long today; there’s some kin...solar storm wreaking havoc... comm buoy.”

“Gotcha. In that case--I got asked to N-school!” She didn’t even try to restrain her excitement or beat around the bush; he knew how much she’d been hoping, how hard she’d worked.

“Lisa, that’s _amazing_!” Even with the static plaguing the screen she could tell he was grinning ear to ear. “I’m _so **proud**_ of you. Was.. marksmanship or tech expertise?”

“Both, I think,” Lisa said, raking her fingers through her hair to knock drying mud loose. It had been that sort of day. But the email waiting for her when she made it back to her quarters was worth a hard day. “Plus my general badassery and determination.”

Gabe snorted. “You joke but I think those two are prereqs... _anyone_ getting invited to N-school. When... leave?”

“Next training round starts in two months, which’ll hardly cut into my rotation here. Captain Aimes seemed inclined to allow it.”

“‘Course she does,” Gabe laughed. “She... Anderson are buddies ... nd I’d bet... steak dinner he’s the one... commended you.”

“Rubio’s steak dinner or Salazar’s steak dinner?” Lisa challenged with a grin.

“Oh, Ru... bviously. Anderson’s mentioned... following... career.”

Lisa wrinkled her nose at the worsening interference. “Really? Should I be flattered or concerned?”

“What... you think?” Gabe’s tone was playful enough for her to guess, even if words were missing.

“Thank him for me, then,” she grinned. “And remember if you’re wrong you owe me dinner.”

“Deal,” Gabe retorted with a matching grin.

They had to end the call a minute later as the interference grew insurmountable, but it had been good to talk with him. Three years of rotating assignments for both of them had made them more ships passing in the night than anything else, and even vidcalls were hard to manage sometimes. She appreciated even the brief contact and chance to share her news sort-of in person.

“Moving up in the world,” Lisa murmured to herself, still grinning with excitement. She’d vowed o give the Alliance her all, and this was an even better way to keep her promise. Gabe being proud of her was just a bonus.

-o-

N-school was hard. Brutal might even have been a better word.

But Lisa Shepard was a determined, resourceful, stubborn soldier, and persevered through everything the instructors threw at her. As they progressed through the courses, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind she’d be at the top of the class. Everyone there was tough as nails, though. She thrilled to work with them, even more to compete. Even struck up friendly rivalries with a couple other candidates that helped all of them push even harder. 

She was actually enjoying this, as opposed to enduring it. She enjoyed the challenge, she enjoyed honing her skills, she enjoyed all of it. Well, maybe not the lack of sleep. But she’d known that was part of this and she could deal with it. She’d dealt with worse.

Finally, though, the end of her course loomed less than a month off. One more scenario to run, sure to be the toughest she’d faced, and she would make N1. A foot in the door of special forces. The first building blocks of going all the way.

“I hear you’re doing extremely well, Shepard,” a familiar voice said behind her as she pored over files of scenarios other recruits had run for their final exercise. If she knew what the instructors were likely to toss her into, she could better prepare.

She was on her feet and saluting before she’d even turned around. “Captain Anderson, sir. Good to see you, sir.”

Anderson chuckled as he returned the salute. “At ease, Lieutenant Commander.” He looked her over as she settled into parade rest. “You seem to be doing well.”

“I’ve always enjoyed a challenge, sir,” Shepard replied, mouth twitching toward a smile.

“That’s what I hear,” Anderson said with a nod. “Also that you’re excelling in all your courses. Everyone I’ve talked to was damn impressed.”

The threatening smile broke through her attempts to school it away.”That’s good to hear, sir. I”m hoping to get invited back for further training. Thank you again for the initial recommendation.”

“I stand by it. You’re a hell of a soldier, Shepard. Exactly what the Alliance needs in our special forces.” He smiled. “Though I’m pretty sure you’re looking forward to completing this round of training. Make any plans for after you’re done?”

Lisa’s smile turned full-blown grin. “Yes, sir.” She gestured toward the surrounding scenery, Corcovado vaguely visible in the distance. “Through some minor miracle, Gabe and I both managed to get leave permission for the week following course completion. We haven’t even been able to vidchat since I got here, barely manage to exchange emails. He’s gonna come to Rio and we’re gonna spend a week being the most touristy sons of bitches this place has ever seen.”

Something shifted in Anderson’s eyes; a minute twinge of guardedness she almost missed(most probably would have. Her main combat discipline hinged on being perceptive). “Sounds like you’re looking forward to it.”

“Yes, sir,” she said slowly “If I might ask, sir, why are you here? Flattered as I am you consider my career worth tracking, I doubt it’s your only reason for showing up.”

Anderson sighed and nodded. “Shepard, I have some bad news.”

Looking at his eyes, she knew. “No.”The tears pricked her eyes almost instantly, and she ruthlessly shoved them back as she leaned against the waist-high wall. behind her. “He’s not coming, is he?”

“No,” Anderson confirmed softly.

Shepard thinned her lips, pressed a fist to her mouth as she fought for _some_ composure.”What happened?” She hated the wobble in her voice. She was tougher than this.”Is he...?”

“Palléon was recently transferred from my command to another captain’s detachment. Last week, they were tapped to rescue a diplomat’s kid who was nabbed by pirates from some getaway resort of the well-connected.”

It felt like someone had stabbed her in the lungs. _Not again._.. “These pirates wouldn’t have happened to be batarians, would they, sir?” she asked, barely recognizing her own voice.

Anderson didn’t say anything, which was confirmation enough. “They proved easy to track,” he said instead. “Even easier to catch. But they put up a hell of a fight when boarded.”

“Anderson, just _tell me_.” It was the closest she’d come to begging in her life, but the weight of dread sitting on her chest was making it hard to breathe.

“The diplomat’s kid was recovered unharmed, along with a couple dozen other captives found aboard. The Alliance suffered relatively light casualties under the circumstances; two critically injured and three KIA, but-”

“Which one’s he?” She knew from the look on Anderson’s face, from the knot in her gut, but it wasn’t _real_ yet. Wouldn’t be until she heard the words.

“Palléon was one of those killed in action,” Anderson said, tone gentle, and rested a fatherly hand on her shoulder. “Shepard, I’m sorry. I know you two were close. That he was like a brother to you.”

“Y’know, we never actually put a label on it,” Lisa said shakily, the wetness burning behind her eyes until it was too much and started running down her face. She sniffled. “He’s my... my brother and best friend and guardian angel and- and he can’t be-”

_‘You’re only gonna be adding to that roster of dead, Lisa.  
_

_It was never supposed to include **you** , _she retorted to the ghostly echo.

She looked at Anderson, fighting hard for some calm. “Is... when’s his...” She couldn’t say the word. “Service?”

“Two days,” Anderson replied. “That’s part of why I wanted to tell you in person; I’m pretty sure I can talk Colonel O’Hara into giving you a leave of absence-”

“No,” Shepard interrupted. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thank you, sir, but I can’t- I don’t wanna remember him like that.” She sniffled, clenched her jaw. _I think it might kill me._ She felt cold settle in, numbness and determination climbing through her chest. “And I don’t want special treatment, sir. I wouldn’t be able to make it if I was on assignment. Anyone else here wouldn’t be able to leave. I need to finish-” a shuddering breath ripped free. “Finish what I started.” _For Gabe._.

Anderson was silent for a long moment, watching her. “If that’s what you want, Shepard,” he finally said.

She nodded. _Nothing about this is what I **want**_. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright, then. I am sorry. It’s never easy.”

“I know,” she said hoarsely, ghosts of Mindoir filling her mind’s eye. “Could... could I be dismissed, sir?”

“Of course,” Anderson gave a nod.

“Thank you, sir.” Shepard pushed off the wall, hands balled tight. “And thank you for telling me in person, sir.” Bad as this hurt, an official and impersonal email would have been leagues worse.

“You’re welcome,” Anderson said. She could feel his eyes on her back until she was out of sight from the portico. 

_“I’m proud of you.”_ Gabe’s voice.

She gritted her teeth and walked faster. She didn’t break down til she reached her room.


	6. Torfan-2178

The dust here was _atrocious_. Sure, on the surface it hadn’t been much trouble, but as Shepard’s unit fought their way further down the tunnels drilled into the depths of the moon, a fine coating of ever-thicker grit clung to their armor, helmets, and weapons. And while modern firearms were nowhere near as bothered by it as the guns of centuries past, she did eventually call a halt so they could clean things out.

“ _Quick_ breather,” she emphasized, wiping dust off her visor so she could survey the soldiers left in her command. Visibility down here sucked ass, and the damn batarians knew it _far_ better than they did. They’d already had some losses, but more than enough remained to make the four-eyed bastards pay. For _everything_ that could be laid at their feet. “Make sure your gear and guns are in good shape, and we are going to bring down these sons of bitches.” She glanced over the group, picked out two of the faster, quieter soldiers. “Howell, Marchand, scout things out ahead, feed me updates.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they saluted in unison before slipping off down the tunnel.

“Maybe now we’ll get a plan beyond grinding ourselves against them hoping they die first,” she overheard one soldier mutter to another as they cleared dust from their pistols. “We’re gonna lose the whole unit while Commander Longshot gives orders and picks ‘em off from the damn back.”

“I lead from the front, Taylor,” Shepard barked, voice raised and firm, and smirked a little when he flinched at the realization he’d been overheard. “And if you think my Titan is worth shit down here, you’re welcome to it.” She strode over to lock eyes with him despite their helmets. “The limited sight lines down here mean I’m sticking to my pistol, and I’ll be right with the rest of you. Sure, it’ll be a hard fight, and they’ll likely take more of us with them. But every last one of us knew what we might be asked to sacrifice in the line of duty. I, for one, would consider it a worthwhile sacrifice if the end result is wiping these heartless, slaving bastards from the face of the galaxy.”

Her omnitool beeped with updates from both scouts, a rundown of barricades, fortifications, and enemy numbers.

Shepard dismissed the alert, mentally adding the new data to the unpleasant picture running in her head. _Yeah, they’re gonna take a lot of us with them_. The batarian pirates were holing up in a fortress that was effectively a death trap.

“Can you get any further?” she asked. Marchand replied in the negative; he’d hit a dead end and needed to make his way back, but Howell was fairly confident she could scope out more of the fortress. 

“Do that,” Shepard said. “Marchand, we’ll see you soon.” She ran her gaze over the soldiers around her, starting with Taylor and his buddy before turning to look at the rest. “Hard fights are nothing new for us. Humanity’s been scrapping for respect since we got a foot in the galactic door. Hell, sometimes it seems we do better the more the odds are stacked against us.” She rested her left hand briefly to the inside of her right elbow; the closest she could come to touching the tattoo under her armor. _The galaxy’ll be a better place without this scum in it. “_ Let’s show them what we’re made of.”

The unit gave a short, harsh cheer of agreement as they got to their feet and started to move forward.

Shepard smiled grimly. Motivational speeches weren’t her forte, but clearly this one had worked. She keyed on comms “Marchand, we’re moving; we’ll meet you-”

A sharp burst of gunfire cut through her words.

“Marchand?” she demanded, one hand to the side of her helmet, the other clenched around her pistol.

There was a wet cough, then, “ _Ambush-!_ ” cut off by another three-round burst.

“Eyes up,” Shepard hissed to her men, all of whom were already warily scanning all directions for threats. “They want a fight, we’ll give ‘em one. We can fight dirty, too. _” I’m coming for **you** this time, assholes_. “According to recon, there’s a split coming; when we get there, I want Taylor, Reed, Ziegler, Smythe, and Guthrie to go left. The rest of us will stay right. Hit them from two directions.”

The selected five obeyed without hesitation right on cue.

Barely a hundred feet further was when all hell broke loose. Blistering fire from assault turrets kept them pinned, batarian engineers and foot soldiers closed in to finish them off, and from the burst of chatter over comms, Taylor’s group had run into a squad of pirates meant to hit the Alliance from behind.

“Engineers first!” Shepard hollered, ducking behind one of the foremost barricades--they worked both ways--as she pulled up her omnitool and started hunting for the turrets’ frequencies. If she could isolate just one and turn it on the pirates...

A batarian got a little too close and Shepard paused her hack to shoot him dead center between the eyes.

Singh stepped closer, shotgun held at the ready. “I’ll get the next one, ma’am. So you can make their lives hell.”

“Appreciate it,” she barked, attention returning to her omnitool. He was a good soldier, and--even better--a good shot. He could handle watching her back. She was so close on the left-most turret...

It only took a few more tweaks to the code. The barrel dipped a moment before spinning to spit fire at the batarians.

“Move up!” Shepard ordered, swinging over the barricade to press forward while their enemies were distracted. 

It was the only easy gain they got. The batarians fought them tooth and nail for every foot, she watched good men and women fall around her, but still Shepard pressed forward.

The dingy blue armor of the batarians in front of her was nauseatingly familiar. As one fired, the memory flashed; Laura’s dad with his face blown off. Another pirate hurled a grenade her way, and as she smacked it back she saw Reg with a chest full of bullet holes, bleeding out in front of his petrified sisters.

Shepard threw up an arm to block the resulting explosion. _You will never do to anyone else what your kind did to them._ she vowed silently. She pulled free a grenade of her own and threw it the same direction. This explosion took out two barricades, a turret, and at least three pirates.

“Commander, they’re too much, we should pull back!” a voice hollered over comms.

“No!” Shepard snapped back as she whipped her pistol butt into the face of a charging batarian and shot him in the throat. “We _will not_ retreat, we’re taking this base out _now_ , while we have the chance!”

It was not the last time she had to issue such an edict. The batarians were ferocious in defense of their safe haven, and the unit comms were filled with cries of pain and final breaths for the remainder of the fight.

Shepard herself took several hits that stung even after being smeared with medi-gel. But she pressed on until she was in range to try bypassing the main gate controls. “Singh! Cover me!”

“Yes, ma’am!” He pivoted to watch her back even as a blast from his shotgun sent a batarian flying.

There were a lot of nodes to this one. Halfway through a shotgun blast peppered her shoulder, lurching her forward, and she had to start over. Even as she rerouted the last node, there was a choked cry of pain and Singh slammed into the wall, slid to the ground, hand clapped to the side of his neck.

“Shit!” Shepard wheeled and picked off the batarians, three shots for three kills. “Hang on, Ensign!” Her omnitool came to life as she batted his hand aside to apply medi-gel.

“Not sure... how much that’ll help, Commander,” Singh rasped, coughing. “Just take ‘em out for me.”

She gave a sharp nod. “I can do that.” She clapped a hand to his shoulder, then pushed to her feet and followed others of her unit through the opened gate. “Howell, you got anything on the compound layout?”

No answer.

“ _ **Howell!**_ ”

“She’s dead, ma’am,” a not-Howell voice crackled in her ear. “Turret got her.”

“Dammit.” Shepard looked at her omnitool and saw an alert she’d missed in the heat of battle. Sketchy details on the interior. _Good woman_. It was better than nothing. “Taylor!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Good, he wasn’t dead. “Circle around the left hallway while we hit from the front; they’re less protected on that side.”

“It’s just me and Guthrie, Commander, that’s suicide!”

“Not if you hit hard and fast enough, Corporal; _**do it**_!” she barked, double-tapping a pirate in the chest when he popped up to fire.

He grunted acknowledgement and a minute later, as she and her remaining soldiers kept the batarians’ focus forward, the left side of the room lit up with gunfire that cut through the pirates.

What had been a blistering, near impenetrable defense slowly eroded to occasional bursts of return fire, and Shepard smiled grimly. _Knew we could do it._

A nearby batarian dropped his rifle and started to raise his hands.

She shot him.

“Commander, he was surrendering!” It sounded like Tiernan voicing the protest. Shepard ignored her, fired back at another batarian who was definitely _not_ surrendering. No one other than Tiernan appeared to have seen, even the other pirates.

But the tide had turned in favor of the Alliance, and soon the batarians were surrendering en masse.

“Don’t shoot!” one called, hands rising.

For a split second, pistol still leveled at the pirates, Shepard heard the ghostly echo of Laura screaming the same words, saw her friend’s face, followed by Sarah. Finn. Justin and Connor. Javi.

Gabe.

Her jaw tightened. They were slavers, pirates, _murderers_ , like every batarian she had come across, and they had the audacity to ask for _mercy_.

She pulled the trigger. And she kept pulling it.

The galaxy was better off without them.

-o-

Nineteen.

Nineteen soldiers KIA out of a unit of twenty ****five. Likely to turn into twenty if Singh didn’t improve soon.

And three and half dozen dead batarian pirates, almost a third of whom had been executed while surrendering. Torfan had the makings of a bloody legacy and she knew it, but it was one she was willing to carry.

She could see Taylor and Tiernan murmuring together across the _Omaha_ ’s medbay as the cruiser’s medical staff patched up the survivors, heard the whispered _‘butcher’_ slip from Tiernan’s lips as the woman glanced her direction.

She didn’t even flinch. They’re gotten the job done _. Eliminate the enemy._ That had been their mission, and they’d done it.

“You want to explain your results to me, Shepard?” Major Kyle was waiting for her when she left the medbay. Arms crossed, expression neutral, but something in his eyes that made her tense.

Shepard snapped to attention and saluted. “Major Kyle, sir. What part would you like explained, sir?”

“All of it, Commander, but let’s start with the execution of surrendering prisoners.”

“My orders were to remove them as a threat. I felt more confident in said removal with them as corpses than prisoners we’d send back to the Hedgemony only for them to ‘go rogue’ and return to slaving--which is outlawed in Citadel space, sir--and piracy within the year. And with the fight they put up, I didn’t trust them to honestly surrender. It was for the safety of my men as well as the galaxy as a whole.”

“Your men?” Kyle shifted to clasp his hands behind his back. “You mean the surviving ones after you got three quarters of your goddamn unit killed?”

“The batarians killed them, sir.” Her hands curled into first and she forced herself to relax. “We knew it would be a hard fight, but we were committed to achieving our objective. Which we did, sir. You can’t argue with the results.”

He sighed and nodded. “Some will still try, Commander. Particularly the execution of surrendering prisoners.”

“Let them,” Shepard said. “I wouldn’t do it any differently, sir. Pirates and slavers are too great a threat to be worth the risk of leaving alive.”

Another nod, his expression relaxing. “Very good, Commander. Dismissed.”

_Butcher,_ Tiernan’s voice whispered in her head as she saluted and turned away.

It that was what she had to be to keep people safe, so be it. She’d rather that than being soft and allowing another Elysium. Another Mindoir. She’d signed up to protect people no matter the cost. Her reputation was an easy one to pay, even if the lives of her men was less so.

-o-

_Shepard refused to believe it was coincidence the committee had asked to speak with her today. Not with the standing charges against her. She also refused to give them the satisfaction of acknowledging the anniversary it marked._

_“This shouldn’t take long, Shepard,” one of the blue-uniformed arbiters said as she took a seat facing them. “We only have a few questions.”  
_

_“Well, I currently have all the time in the world,” Shepard remarked, knowing the Reapers’ approach made the words technically untrue in the long run. “So I’m at your disposal as long as you need, ma’a’m.”  
_

_“To be clear, this is not an_ interrogation _, Shepard,” the woman said tapping her fingers against the smooth wood table. “This is more... an inquiry. To clarify a few points and help with deliberations.”  
_

Uh-huh. _“And what points would those be, ma’am?”_

_The arbiter glanced at her colleague, received a subtle nod, and began. “You’ve stated, both at the time. and upon submitting to these proceedings, that your actions in the Bahak system were a matter of necessity.”_

_It took a few seconds into the pause for Shepard to realize the woman was waiting for confirmation. “That’s correct, ma’am.”_

_“Well, there are some incidents in in your file that would, to some, suggest otherwise.” She scrolled through a datapad, the orange glow of its screen accentuating her features and turning her eyes to amber. “For example, the battle of Torfan.”  
_

I goddamn knew it “ _With respect, ma’am, if you look at my file, you’ll see a history of achieving my objective no matter the cost. That day, that mission, my_ objective _was to neutralize a piracy cabal that had attacked an Alliance world and remove them as a threat.” She set her fists on the table, with slightly more force than required. “So I did.”_

_“Given your execution of surrendering enemy combatants, you can see how that might be hard for some people to believe,” the other arbiter commented. “Especially given the events on Mindoir.”  
_

_“As I said,” Shepard sighed. “Both just now and to my superior at the time, I was sent to remove a threat. I felt more more confident in said removal with the... pirates dead than prisoner. We all know the Hedgemony would have demanded their return, with how much they dislike humans. And that their demands would be granted to avoid war. And that within a year, two at_ most _, those prisoners would have been released and right back to their established ways. I did not want to be the first domino leading to another Elysium. Ma’am.”  
_

_“Or Mindoir?”  
_

_“Or Mindoir,” Shepard nodded. “I had--_ have _\--a duty to protect the citizens of the Alliance.”  
_

_“You also have a well-documented history of dislike for batarians,” came the--expected--counter argument. “Placing that next to the execution of prisoners does not paint a rosy picture for you.”  
_

_“I don’t give a damn what kind of picture it paints,” Shepard said, crossing her arms. “And what about the lives of my men on that mission? We suffered_ heavy _losses there; does the fact I pushed on despite the sacrifice it took mean I_ dislike _humans as well?”  
_

_“Some might argue your hatred of batarians made you blind to the cost it took to eradicate them,” the first arbiter interjected coolly.  
_

_“And some would argue I’m cold and unfeeling due to losses my units have sustained in other engagements, ma’am,” Shepard retorted, gritting her teeth. “Still others would argue my actions have saved enough lives to balance those lost and that makes me a hero.”  
_

_“Your point, Shepard?”  
_

_“My_ point _is that people say_ vastly _different things depending on their views and biases and what information is at their disposal. Given that this hearing is supposed to be about my actions and the intent behind them, don’t you think my report on the incident in question should have a little more weight than a rumor from nearly ten years ago?!”_

_“Normally it would,” the first arbiter said, folding her hands on the table. “But your strong--if understandable, to some--anti-batarian bias makes your declaration of intent require some skepticism when contrasted with the_ massive _loss of batarian life as a direct result of your actions, Shepard. We have a duty to take all factors into account, not just your_ word _.” She pushed back from the table and nodded to the guards by the door. “We’re done here. Shepard may return to her quarters.”_

_Shepard didn’t argue further, dutifully followed the escort back to her apartment. They’d already made up their minds about her._ That could have gone better.. _._

_Especially since they weren’t entirely_ wrong.


	7. Addition to the Roster

_Working out was one of the few activities at Shepard’s disposal cooped up in this apartment, and even that was limited to whatever she could do without equipment. She improvised with the bed, chairs, occasionally the kitchen island when needed. God forbid she go soft with the comforts of civilian life while she waited. She had to be ready when the Reapers got here, and it kept her from going stir-crazy._

_Days like today, it also made a really good distraction from things she didn’t want to think about._

_But even her endurance had its limits, and Shepard was finally forced to take a break. There was a fine tremble to her hands as she went in the fridge for a beer--”a reward for good behavior” Vega had wrangled up for her this month--that she couldn’t swear was from the exertion._

_Shepard took the beer and went to sit by the window, opting to sit on the back of it with her feet on the seat. She looked out, let her attention drift to a nearby apartment building. Sometimes she could see kids playing on the roof, but no such luck today. The back of her wrist caught sweat droplets about to run in her eyes, and she dried her hand on her pant leg as she took a swig of the beer._

_“Time for a trip down memory lane, apparently,” she muttered with a grim smile  
_

“Welcome home.”

_The smile faltered; it_ would _start there._

“I’m proud of you, you know that?”

_She did, and she had. He’d never been shy about saying it._

”You deserve to know _someone_ is.”

_The smile came back, sadder as it curved her lips. “You did a good job there,” she said quietly, tracing aimless patterns in the fog her proximity had created on the glass._

_The door slid open as she took another gulp of her beer. “Just checking in Shep- You okay?”_

_She nodded without looking at Vega. “Good workout,” she explained, rolling her shoulders as the cool rush of changing air pressure brushed over bare skin. The top of her fatigues still hung around her waist, sweat dampening her cropped tank top as well as her back._

_“S’that all? I enjoy a good workout, too, but they usually don’t end in pensive staring out the window.” He moved closer, leaning against the arm of a nearby chair._

_“Today’s...” Shepard sighed, searching for the right adjective. “Hard,” she finally said. Simple was best, after all.  
_

_And maybe, as a fellow soldier, Vega would catch her drift without needing it spelled out._

_She heard him shift his weight against his perch, the deliberate pause, followed by a grunt of understanding. When she glanced over, he was staring at the wide strip of her back visible below her top. Specifically, the lower part of her soldier-angel tattoo he hadn’t seen when she first showed it to him._

_The dates under the angel’s feet._

_“You want company or privacy?” he finally asked.  
_

_Shepard chuckled, touched he’d even asked, and drank more of her beer. “Company’s good.”_

_She done this anniversary solo before. It was never fun._

-o-

If her colleagues and instructors thought she was committed before, it was nothing compared to the final month. Shepard threw herself into the training with a vengeance, storming through drills with the determination of a woman possessed.

She led squads, sniped targets, poured her whole focus into staying the course. She was afraid of where her mind might go if she didn’t. Better to let her thoughts be consumed by her missions and exercises than risk them turning to him.

To the hand gently pulling her out of the shed on Mindoir.

To the help with homework, the rock-steady shoulder to cling to during panic attacks, the ever present support through _everything_ ; mundane and awful alike The teasing and jokes, the pride in his eyes, the enthusiasm...

To the thought he was gone. Her guardian angel had gone and saved someone else and now he wasn’t there anymore. She’d have gone to war for him, but didn’t get the chance. Because of goddamn _batarian pirates_.

She was screaming inside, even as she led her assigned team through their final scenario with stoic, driven efficiency. Sure enough, top marks in the class. N1 designation, invitation back for the next level of training in a few months, congratulations from all her instructors, the whole package.

And all it took to shatter through the bittersweet-ness of _I did it, but he’s not here_ was picturing his face if he had been. The wide, lopsided grin, the eyes full of pride. The hug she’d get.

_‘I knew you could do it.’_ An arm around her shoulders, a brotherly smirk _. ‘I’m proud of you, Lise.’_

Shepard still took her leave. Spent the first two days curled in a ball in a Rio hotel room, letting out all the grief she’d bottled up “for later”. Later was here, and the dam broke hard, as she’d known it would. So she let the memories pour through, cried until the hollow numbness settled back in her chest, then picked herself up and caught a shuttle to the States. Even if Gabe’s... _funeral_ would have been more than she could handle, she still needed--wanted--to say goodbye.

She owed him that much. Seeing the plain, stark headstone still nearly broke her. Name. Dates. Branch of service. Nothing fancy, simple was best.

Shepard sat in front of the marker, ground chill seeping through her clothes, and stared at it for a minute before reaching out to run her fingers over the bold lettering.

_Gabriel Christopher Palléon._

Her breath started to shake as she traced the G again. “I miss you,” she admitted in a hoarse whisper. “So much it _aches_.”

_“Doubt that’ll ever change...”_

She closed her eyes, unshed tears beading on her lashes, at the memory. “Not helping, Gabriel.”

_“Just gotta deal with it best you can...”_

She sniffled hard, blinked away the tears. “Dunno how good even my best will be for this...” She sighed. “Dammit, Gabe, it wasn’t... You weren’t supposed to...” Another sniffle, a shaky laugh. “Good thing I’ve never needed complete sentences with you, huh?”

The stone was cold under her touch. _2140-2176_

“It’s not fair.” The absurdity of the words wasn’t lost on her; she better than most knew how unfair life could be. “It’s not _ **fucking**_ fair I had to lose you, too.”

_**Language** , Lisa Anne_, she heard him chide, underlaid with a laugh, A sob escaped her. He’d never teasingly rebuff her for that again, grinning at his own hypocrisy. Because she’d lost him. And to the same damn thing. Batarian pirates had taken Mindoir, her family, her friends. And now Gabe.

She’d become a soldier to protect people. Yes, the Alliance had saved her on Mindoir and joining their ranks had felt right. But it had felt right because she could protect others. Like he did.

“Wish you coulda been there,” she said softly. “I did it, Gabe. N1 Lieutenant Commander Lisa Shepard. You should’ve been there to see it.” She traced the edges of the stone. “Thank you,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Thank you for believing in me, for supporting me, being proud of me and letting me know it.” She could almost feel his hand on her shoulder. “ Helping me through homework and flashbacks and recovery in general. Being my... my family and my guardian angel. My life’s not gonna be the same without your big, goofy grin. Or your jokes. Or your hugs...”

God, she was gonna miss his hugs.

“Not really anything I can do about it though, is there?” She sniffled again, leaned forward and rested her forehead against the stone marker until her legs and back burned from stretching, then pushed to her feet. “I’ll keep making you proud,” she said hoarsely. “I promise.”


	8. Ruthless Calculus

_This was the longest Shepard had stayed in one place since... well, since waking up in a Cerberus lab. It wasn’t bothering her as much as she’d thought it would. Maybe some forced R & R was a good thing. Even if it did feel sort of ‘deep breath before the plunge’ with what she knew was coming._

_At least it gave her time to think. And somewhere around month four the brass had decided she could be trusted with datapads and OSDs as long as they were preloaded and screened first. Still no extranet connection or downloads, but she had some books now. And it was easier to read her file on the screen than paging through the massive stack of paper Anderson had brought her(much as she appreciated his doing so)._

_But today her thoughts kept wandering as she tried to read, drawn repeatedly back to the few meeting she’d had with the arbiters. Despite their attempts at neutrality, she could tell they remained skeptical of her claim she’d purely been acting from necessity in Bahak._ “Undue malice.” “Blinded by anti-batarian sentiment” “Hatred.” _They weren’t as subtle as they thought they were being, and dancing around their attempts to trip her up without lying or saying something that could be misconstrued was exhausting._

“Tell me, Shepard,” _one had asked yesterday,_ “do you feel any remorse for the three hundred thousand dead as a result of your actions?”

 _She’d known what they were digging to hear. So she gave it to them._ “No, I don’t. Because it was either that three hundred thousand died--and it was closer to three hundred ninety--or I’d have the whole damn galaxy on my conscience for letting the Reapers through. I’d much rather less than half a million weighing on me than the untold _trillions_ in that case. I’d’ve done the same regardless of the colony’s race. Human, asari, turian, whoever. Yes, it was a lot of lives lost due to my decisions. But the Reapers _**are** coming_, arbiter. Whether you think that’s fantasy or me cooking up an excuse, or whatever, they are coming. If I hadn’t destroyed that relay, they would have annihilated us all already. Heavy a toll as nearly four hundred thousand might be, I’ll pay it in a heartbeat if it gives us a chance to prepared and maybe, _just maybe, **win**_ **.** ”

 _They hadn’t looked particularly swayed and she couldn’t help wagering with herself her answer would be taken out of context. It was the truth. The Reapers were a threat to all life, and whatever price she had to pay in the ruthless calculus of war to beat them--if that was even_ possible _\--she’d pay it._

_But they’d been right about one thing: in her heart of hearts, she’d felt no remorse. And not just because war demanded sacrifice. Shepard swiped her thumb up the side of the datapad, watched the details of her life blur up the screen. The occasional word jumped out at her; Mindoir. Only survivor. Gabriel Palléon. N-school. Surrendering enemy combatants._

_Torfan._

_In one sense, galling as she found it, she could understand their skepticism. In another, she resented the persistent hinting she’d only been willing to sacrifice so many lives because they were batarians._

_Shepard pushed out of her chair and walked to the window, bracing one arm against the glass as she stared aimlessly out._

_It wasn’t like she’d specifically targeted a batarian colony. Or had to choose between them and another race. Of course, it wasn’t like she’d tried to warn them, either._ For all the good it would have done. _..._

 _And maybe, to a small part of her heart where the angry sixteen year old still lurked, hiding in a shed surrounded by dead friends and siblings, it felt like_ justice _that a batarian colony was sacrificed. Bahak for Mindoir. Eye for an eye. Colony for a colony._

_Shepard sighed, bobbled the datapad in her hand as her gaze trailed over the cityscape. She didn’t think the investigative committee would agree with that logic. “With undue malice” had been their term, and knowing her thoughts--fleeting as they’d been--would only corroborated their suspicions._

_Motion caught her eye, and she glanced idly toward the roof of a nearby building, to the young boy swooping circles with a model ship. He reminded her so sharply of Justin it made her chest ache. “Undue malice.” Therein lay the rub: far as she was concerned, any malice she held toward batarians was completely_ due.

_The door hissed open. “Commander.”_

_“Not supposed to call me that, remember, Vega?” Shepard chuckled as she pushed away from the window--and her thoughts.  
_

_“Not supposed to salute, either,” Vega said with a half-smirk and small shrug as he dropped his arm back to his side. “We gotta go, defense committee wants to see you.”  
_

_Shepard raised a brow and tossed her datapad on the chair. Not the arbiters again, or the investigative committee. The defense committee. She could think of only one reason_ they _would want_ her _, and it meant introspection could be saved for later._

_The Reapers were coming, and she’d be damned if she let them win without a fight._


End file.
